A cowboy spends his life under the vast, open sky, where the horizon stretches endlessly, beckoning with promises of adventure and discovery.
His days are molded by the rhythm of the land and the cycle of the seasons.
With leathered skin and calloused hands, he becomes a part of the landscape itself—rugged, enduring, and bound to the earth.
The saddle is his throne, and the plains, his kingdom.
He knows the value of hard work, the weight of responsibility, and the sweetness of simplicity.
Life is measured in sunrises and sunsets, in the miles traversed and the storms weathered.
Through challenges and triumphs, he maintains a respect for nature's power and beauty, forging a bond with his environment that is both profound and sacred.
This is not just a livelihood but a legacy—a testament to resilience, freedom, and the enduring allure of the wild.
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Slowly subscribing to the theory that John is blind in that eye or at least semi blind, I never noticed how bad it really looked. This shot is so good 😭
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details on john marston's customized saddle he lost in the mountains after the wolf attack.
honestly breaks my heart to see this because i assume he worked HARD to be able to afford that saddle only to lose it like that later. can we also talk about the fact it matches with his gunbelt and holsters??? i love this little detail.
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I want this man so bad 🤭
All of these pics were captured by @kaphzzz so go and show them some love rn for capturing these 😩
There isn’t enough nsfw headcanons on him and that upsets me 😭
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His rough, calloused hands grabbed both my arms, drawing me closer.
The fire in his eyes was undeniable, a blazing intensity that seemed to light up the dark space between us.
His grip was strong, but not imposing; giving me a prelude of the night that awaited.
He'd denied me for weeks, a dance of avoidance that fueled a growing tension, a silent battle of wills that had been both infuriating and exhilarating.
Each time our paths crossed, a word, a glance, even the slightest touch sent electricity through the air.
Now, as he held me, all pretenses fell away. The longing, the desire we had both tried to bury, surged to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged, to be acted upon.
In this moment, it was clear: the chase, the game, had come to an end, giving way to a night where hidden passions would finally be unleashed.
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